Chapter 20
Chet woke before dawn on the hard floor in his bedroll. He planned to take over one of those beds to sleep in after he ant-hilled the bedding on it to get rid of any bed bugs. The cooler night air soon reached him. Hands on his hips, he stretched his sore back muscles and then pulled up his pants and sat down to get his boots on. A bath and shave wouldn't hurt him, but his clean clothes were back in the hotel.
During the night, Hoot had arrived with the rented wagon full of supplies that the crew unloaded late the night before. But Chet could hear him opening the lids on the cast-iron stovetop downstairs and building a fire in the range. Things would turn around soon in this ranch's operationâbut things never went as fast as Chet wanted them to.
The sleepy-looking Hoot shook his head at him in the candlelight. “I forgot how much work this was.”
“You can handle it?”
“Sure, but you ever had a camp cook before that didn't complain?”
“Only my sister. We'll find you some help when I'm in Preskit.”
“Thanks, I'll get by till then.”
“You have any idea where Ryan might have gone?”
Hoot shook his head. “All I've known about him was he was here running this ranch.”
“Since he became my enemy, I need to know all I can about him.”
“Talk to Hampt. He worked for Ryan for some time. He might know more than I do.”
“Now, how can I help you?” Chet asked.
“Crack me enough eggs to make some flapjacks.” Hoot turned up his lip. “Some may be fertile. Watch them.”
“I will. How many good ones do you need?”
“Six will do.”
“I can do that.”
“What can I do?” Heck asked, sweeping his hair back and looking like he'd been dragged through a knothole.
“Chop more firewood,” Hoot said.
“I'll get it.”
“Don't chop a finger off,” Chet teased as he went out in the first glow of dawn.
“I won't.” He forced a smile and went on.
“Arizona's a tough place,” Hoot said.
Chet agreed. “I had no idea we'd get into a tough war out here trying to buy a ranch.”
“He's a tough kid.”
“Yes. Last year he must have rode five-six hundred miles by himself to get me when they shot his father.”
“Damn, that was a man's job.”
“And it worries me. I never had a boyhood myself. I've always felt cheated and I hope he doesn't miss his, too.” Chet shook his head at the thoughts of that happening to Heck.
“Aw, you get this ranch straightened out, he'll have a great time making pack trips to hunt elk and bear. There's lot of pretty girls to dance with on Saturday night in Camp Verde. He won't miss a thing.”
“I hope you're right. Here's the good eggs you needed.” Chet put the bowl of cracked ones down on the table.
“Thanks, better get the crew up. This food is coming together. Coffee's made.”
With a hot holder on the handle, Chet raised the pot to get some for himself. It steamed up as he poured it. “I'll get them up.”
Smelling the first pancakes cooking on the sizzling grill, Chet went upstairs to stir the crew. Mounting the stairs, he met Tom coming down. “Go back and wake them. Hoot about has it ready.”
“Sure. I can smell it up here. Heavenly, isn't it?”
“We may need to give him a hand, but the old man is trying hard.”
“You bet.” Tom went right back upstairs.
Chet took his steaming cup and went out the front door to listen to the mourning doves. What was Kathren doing? She probably was up and checking cattle. He could imagine her leaning slightly forward in the saddle as she urged her stout horse up the hillside on a cow trail. He missed her and his sister. Susie was his conscience. She reminded him of things that needed done. Keeping him from getting too angry over mistakes and generally pushing him on. Two great women, a thousand miles away, and he missed both of them.
“Going to be a nice day,” Hampt said, coming outside. He checked the sky like most folks did, appraising the weather in the morning.
“When will it rain again?” Chet asked.
“June. That starts the monsoon season and is near a month away. If we do get any then.”
“I understand it's a dry land. Who took care of the hay and watered it?”
“A man named Chandler. He usually has some Mexicans do that.”
“From nearby?”
“Hoot was the last one of us to work up here. He might know.”
“I'll ask him. Thanks.”
“We better get in there. That hungry bunch may eat the plates.”
Deep in laughter, Chet followed the big man back inside. There was some humor left in this worldâhe'd about forgotten all about it.
“What's so funny?' Heck asked.
“Hampt was worried you guys would have it all eaten up, including the plates,” Chet said, and most looked up from feeding their faces, then smiled. “Maybe.”
Then they dug in again. Hoot made more pancakes on his grill and then poured another round of coffee from the big granite pot. The boys were down to thanking him. Finishing up, they turned to Chet.
“What are we doing today?”
“I want two men to go west and look for the rest of the ranch horses. We covered most of the north part, Tom said. The rest of you will cull and see about the ones we brought in. One thing you'll draw straws forâtwo of you are going to help Hoot and do his dishes. This cooking for you all is hard work. We'll have to pitch in till I get him some help.”
Everyone moaned, but it was mild.
“By the way, who's the windmill mechanic in this bunch? We get the bodies loaded in the wagon for Roamer to take back and then you all get the horses checked, then start on the windmills. They'll need all that old grease cleaned off the gears and new applied.”
No one had raised their handâmost cowboys hated windmills except when thirsty. “Heck, you show them how we do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I better go in town and see my land agent, set up an account at the store and hopefully settle this business about Ryan. If I'm not back by bedtime, you'll be fine. But everyone keep their gun handy.”
They all agreed that would be necessary until the Ryan problem was settled. Chet decided he'd talked enough for one morning. Hands soon fit in and knew what to do. The corpses were loaded. Roamer drove the light wagon and hitched his horse on behind. Chet rode his roan that Tom had brought back, bragging on his surefootedness.
At Camp Verde, they had a beer in a small bar and let the horses rest before they climbed the mountain. The bartender asked them who was in the back of the wagon. Chet told him their names and he nodded, “Part of a tough bunch from out there. They were no-account.”
Chet agreed, paid the man, and they left. Standing outside in the bright sun, he pulled down his hat brim, facing the towering mountain. What had he said? Part of a tough bunch. Worthless bastards, he called them.
On the road again, he and Roamer wound their way up the side of the canyon wall, with the team hitting the collars and digging hard to make the grade. The steep grade was a tough one, and so narrow in places as to only allow single passage. Luckily some freight wagons had stopped on a wide place in the road for them to get by. Riding by them on his roan, Chet thanked them.
At last on top, they pulled off the road and let the sweating horses rest. Chet looked across the wide valley at the faraway peaks. Vast country, and he could see for miles.
“Tom said you were moving your whole family out here,” Roamer said as they stood on the lip of the world over the Verde country.
“I hope to, in a year. No way I can close out all my business back there any sooner.”
Roamer nodded. “Good to see real ranch folks taking over that ranch. Absentee owners usually end up in a mess like this Ryan deal. You know this country is going to grow, too. There will be more folks like you moving in. Solid family folks.”
With the Apaches no longer a problem, more settlers would sure come. They did in Texas. Chet simply hoped he would have all his land and business settled. Then it would be time for them to move out here, so they could enjoy the vast country before him.
When they reached the courthouse square, a crowd had gathered, shouting questions at Roamer about the bodies in the wagon.
Had Injuns done it? Who were they? How did they die? Where did he find them? What was law doing about it?
At last Sheriff Sims came out, spoke briefly to Roamer, and then told everyone to hold their horses. He shook Chet's hand and said he was sorry they were too late to prevent the raid on his ranch.
Chet dismissed his concern and sat on his horse to listen.
Roamer stood up in the wagon. “These dead men were part of a party that attacked the new owner of the Quarter Circle Z. Led by the ex-foreman, a man called Ryan, they charged Mr. Byrnes and a twelve-year-old boy who were in the house. These men were shot during the raid. One's name is McQuire, the other is Willard Duck. Ryan and some others escaped. That's Mr. Byrnes on the roan horse. Why don't you welcome him to Arizona?”
A round of applause as Chet dismounted, took off his hat, and went to shaking hands. Folks acted proud to meet him and glad he'd taken care of those raiders.
Chet offered to buy Roamer's lunch, but the deputy backed out. He needed to go home to check on his pregnant wife. He excused himself.
“The other deputy will take your wagon back to Frey's after he leaves the bodies at the funeral home,” Roamer said.
“Good enough. I'm going to eat, get a bath and shave, and then join civilization.”
In a hurry, Roamer waved and rode off on his own horse. The sheriff walked over. “Any more about Ryan?”
“I wasn't sure that Tom had told you, but there was lots of money in the safe. We thought it was loot from Ryan's shady dealings. It is at the Arizona Bank in a safety deposit box. I'll resolve that with Talley.”
“Fine, but how can we build a case against Ryan?”
âI've thought about it. Might be tough. He can say he collected the money as the manager, huh?”
The lawman agreed. “I see a smart lawyer doing that.”
“Maybe after I clean up and have some food, I'll be able to think more on all of it.”
“No idea where Ryan went?”
“He took the Mexican women, a ranch wagon and team, and I don't know how many handsânot manyâand left after we shot a sniper out of a cottonwood tree.”
“When was that?”
“Yesterday morning, oh, about nine or ten. And I was glad. By then, Heck had discovered some arms in a closet and we were better armed. A Spencer rifle and two shotguns.”
The lawman was looking hard across the street at the saloon fronts down Whiskey Row. Then he nodded. “You were lucky and brave.”
“At first, we only had two revolvers, but had they rushed us, we'd've gotten part of them. I've fought Comanches and had less odds.”
“I bet you have. Be glad General Crook rounded up all the Apaches around here.”
Chet nodded. “I damn sure am proud of that. I've been in a blood feud back home in Texas and lost my brother. I want to move out here to simply live and ranch in peace.”
“I understand.”
“What about a hearing? I'd like to get back to the ranch tomorrow.”
“If I need you to testify, I'll send word. I hope things cool down for you.”
“They will. They will.” And Chet left Sheriff Sims.
Bo Harold caught up with him at Jenny's, where Chet had barely finished explaining the shooting business to her. He motioned for the agent to sit down as Jenny's helper delivered him a heaping plate of food.
“Say, you're some kinda hero around here, ain't he, Jenny?”
“I'd say a big one.” She slowly smiled and bobbed her head in agreement, resting her butt on the counter behind her with her arms folded. “I always heard them say don't mess with Texans, they'll bite you.”
“Yeah, yeah, well, I have wired Talley,” Harold said. “He wants to sign the deed and brand over to you.”
Chet looked hard at his man. “For twenty grand, with three hundred mother cows and a hundred horses guaranteed.”
“He didn't say that.”
“I'll pay him ten down and the balance in eighteen months, minus the shortage in cattle and horses.”